


Faces of the Sun

by kuragay



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Past Suicide Attempt, Sleepovers, suicide ideation, the club is a beautiful family okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuragay/pseuds/kuragay
Summary: Hinata Shouyou is good at acting, good at being a big brother, and good at being a mother in the absence of an actual, functioning mother.Or, although Shouyou might have hair and a personality the same as fire, all fires burn out.





	Faces of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a huge one-shot for this fandom that came way too late. And ofc it's some hurt/comfort.
> 
> This fic has some triggers, but they're all up in the tags. If I missed one, please tell me and I'll put it in.

Hinata Shouyou loves volleyball. He loves it with every fibre of his being, thrumming inside his blood and bones.

Everyone knows it. It’s pretty obvious, and if they don’t know it, Shouyou makes sure to tell them because everyone should know how much he loves volleyball. Everyone should know how awesome his team is, and how great they all work together, and how important they all are.

It’s really just a form of overcompensation. Shouyou knows he’s over the top. It’s deliberate. It’s not like he’s never _content_ per se, it’s just that there are many sides of a person, and his mind is a toilet drain for emotions. So he tells people how much he loves volleyball, and his team, and how happy he is because it’s easier than being sad. Easier than letting people see the hidden, shaded side that he so carefully puts away. He stashes it in the corners of his closet, covered in cobwebs, or with the empty pill bottles in his drawers. He throws it under the bed to feed the monsters, and lets it tangle with the blade he tried to end his life with when he was thirteen.

Acting fine is easy. If you act exuberant enough, people start to believe it. If someone asks, _“Are you okay?”_ He’ll reply with a loud laugh and a cheery smile, and no one will suspect otherwise. Shouyou’s got acting down. He knows how to quirk his lips differently in different situations, knows what laugh to use, and how to exude confidence. Knows how to play it off when his anxiety gets so bad he throws up.

 _Pre-game nerves,_ every dubs it as. Shouyou doesn’t correct them. Why bother? It’s partly true. _Pre-game nerves_ are but the tip of the iceberg and a shoddy replacement for _crippling self-doubt and_ _crumbling self-esteem._

“Hinata, you moron, pay attention!” He’s only aware of Kageyama’s frantic shouting when he sees a ball heading straight for his head.

 _Oh._ Maybe he should move. He’s fast enough to dodge, probably, but he’s so… _tired._ He’s exhausted, which isn’t a word people often associate with him, but it’s been a long week and he thinks he would rather get hit in the face with a volleyball again than force his damn feet to move.

It’s not like he has to wait very long. The ball hits his cheek hard, and _ouch,_ it hurts. _No duh._ His feet lift off momentarily from the momentum and he falls backwards to the floor, neck almost cracking with the whiplash.

“Hinata! Hinata, I’m so sorry. Ohmygod, I’m so, so sorry, oh my god oh my god are you okay?” Asahi ducks under the net, words riddled with nervous tremors, and nearly trips over his big feet to reach Shouyou.

 _Ow ow ow._ Shouyou rubs his face, shaking ginger hair out of his eyes, and blinks through the fuzz. The Ace is kneeling in front of him, frantically waving a hand over his eyes, and Shouyou reaches to grab it.

“It’s alright, Asahi-san,” he beams, even though it hurts his injured cheek. Even though it’s really the last thing he wants to be doing, and his stomach has commenced a strange flipping pattern, scrambling his thoughts into disarray. “That was a really good spike!”

He didn’t even see the spike, but it seems to relax the older male as his broad back sags in relief. Suga has come over too, resting a gentle hand on Shouyou’s small shoulder before tilting his chin up. “Face is probably alright,” he says with a relieved sigh, and because it’s Suga, everyone immediately feels better.

Rounding the net, Kageyama frowns the entire way over, mouth down, eyebrows down, everything down. The human embodiment of grumpiness. “Idiot.”

“Shuddup Kageyama,” Shouyou tries to mumble, but it comes out more like a groan. Oh, it hurts more than he originally thought. Delicately, he pokes his tongue at the inside of his cheek and tastes iron. Yuck. “I’m bleeding.” This, he manages to get out clearly, and Asahi immediately looks alarmed.

“Where? How much? Does it hurt a lot? Do you need a band aid?”

“It’s inside my mouth, Asahi-san,” Shouyou says, not unkindly.

“Will you be alright?” Daichi asks, frowning too. He tells Shouyou to open his mouth and looks inside, biting his lower lip. “It doesn’t look bad. Maybe just a small cut from your teeth.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Shouyou reassures everyone, lying, and he notices the crease disappear from between most of their eyebrows. Except for Kageyama’s because he always has a crease between his eyebrows. And Tsukishima’s because he never had a crease to begin with.

Hinata gets up on the floor, shakes off the jitters in his legs, and rubs a finger over his shorts on a spot on his thigh were he knows there’s an angry scar.

_Thirteen, and afraid, and so very, very lonely. Thirteen, and in pain. Thirteen, and bleeding out in the bathtub. Thirteen, and almost dying._

He remembers getting thirteen stitches and wondering if it was some kind of cruel irony. Maybe if he tries to kill himself again when he’s twenty, he’ll need twenty stitches. Ha.

“Hinata?” It’s Kageyama, quietly, once they’ve taken their positions by the net.

He looks over at the taller male. His setter. At the unsettling blues of his eyes and the permanent crease on his face. His lips, turned down, and he’s concerned for once.

And Shouyou just stares, large eyes open, and blinks slowly. He feels his eyelashes dust his cheeks, and is glad that they’re long enough to catch the tears that have started to gather. “I’m alright,” he mutters, poking his tongue at his cheek again, barely containing the grimace. “I’m not a baby, Kageyama. Not like you.”

The change is immediate, the soft concern on Kageyama’s face giving way to a harsh indignation. “Who are you calling a baby? Idiot! If anyone’s the baby, it’s you, with your shrimpy height and hey—!”

He’s effectively cut off by Shouyou jabbing him in the side, and he goes to return the favour until Coach Ukai glares at them.

At least Kageyama’s not worried anymore because Shouyou doesn’t know how to deal with other people’s worry. He doesn’t even know how to deal with his own.

 

 

“I’m home.” He walks in, kicks his shoes off, and slings his bag over the couch. One weight off his back, yet he still feels heavy. Figures. Stretching, he feels his shoulders pop.

Natsu walks in, and her face almost brightens immediately. “Shouyou!” She cries, grin showing off her teeth as she tackles him to the floor until they’re both a giggling heap.

“Natsu,” Shouyou laughs, tickling her mercilessly. “What do you want for dinner?”

Still laughing as Shouyou jabs her between the ribs, she asks, “Is mama not cooking?”

His stomach drops, and how is Shouyou supposed to answer that? He stops tickling her, keeping the grin on his face even as the pain begs for him to stop, and ruffles her orange hair. “Nah. Mama’s probably tired. How’s about I cook, alright?”

“But,” she looks up at him with big, round eyes, tilting her head to the side. “But she’s been sleeping all day. How can she be tired?

 _Damn._ He hates the tears welling in his eyes, and how he can’t blink them away. Still, he smiles, pushing out a laugh even though it sounds watery. “Hey, are you saying you don’t like my cooking?” He crawls out from under her, blowing a raspberry into her stomach as she shrieks. “Huh? Huh?”

“No!” She giggles, squirming as her eyes shut, laughing hard enough that it echoes around the house. “I love Brother’s—ha—cooking. Ha ha, stop! Ha—!”

He finally stops, and she gets up, breathless, tugging at Hinata’s volleyball shorts. He stares at her tiny hands and her small face, and wonders how he can possibly protect her from this.

_Mama, I need you._

Gently, he guides her into the kitchen. “Alright,” he hoists her up to the counter, and she kicks her legs buoyantly, humming some obscure, out-of-tune song under her breath. “What do you want for dinner?” He poses with the spatula. “Anything you want, I can make. I’m a master chef.”

“Natto and rice!”

Really, Shouyou should’ve expected this. Laughing, tears forgotten for the time being, he puts the spatula down. “Are you sure?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! I want natto and rice! Natto sushi!”

“Alright. How’s about you go do your homework while I make the rice? Then I’ll call you over and we can make sushi together.”

“Okay!”

Shouyou helps her off the counter, carefully setting her down. “And be quiet so you don’t wake mama, alright?”

She nods again, skipping off, and the moment she leaves the kitchen, Hinata lets his body relax. He feels the smile slipping off his face, no matter how hard he struggles to keep it up, and the tears that were welling earlier reappear.

He measures the rice mechanically, already wishing for Natsu to come back, but he doesn’t want her to see him like this. In pain. Hurt. Whatever. He washes the rice a couple times until the water is less murky, then pops it into the rice cooker.

It’ll only take thirty minutes.

Settling, he folds himself onto the couch, making himself even smaller than he already is, and closes his eyes. Maybe he’ll feel less rundown after.

It feels like ten seconds later when he feels a finger poking his cheek, and he opens his eyes, rubbing out the gunk. “Is the rice done already?” He groans, yawning, and Natsu nods.

“The rice has been done for a while. You looked too tired to wake up.”

Shouyou feels a burst of gratitude, and he smiles as warm as he can manage. “You can wake me up whenever, Natsu. As long as it’s you, I don’t mind.” Sitting up, He gathers her into his lap, kissing her forehead. He somehow knows that she’ll end up growing taller than him. Most boys his age are taller than their mom, but he’s still shorter, and he thinks he’ll end up shorter than Natsu too. But he finds that it’s one time he doesn’t care about his height.

“Come one, Shou! Let’s go make sushi!”

Getting dragged into the kitchen, Shouyou follows along, feet dragging behind him. “Alright, alright. Slow down. The food isn’t going anywhere.” He scoops the rice out, putting it in a bowl as he takes out the sushi vinegar, drizzling in the rice generously. “Here,” he hands the rice scooper to her. “You mix this as I get the natto and nori, alright?

Natsu’s head bobs as she wraps both hands around the scooper, standing on her tippy toes to reach the bowl, mixing it messily. It doesn’t matter. Shouyou will clean it up later. He’s just glad she’s having fun.

He puts the nori on the sushi mat, then waits patiently for Natsu to finish mixing the rice. “Put it here,” he instructs, and she plops a bit too much on. Oh well. They’ll just have big rolls. He spreads it out a little, then spoons the natto on.

“Ewwww,” Natsu exclaims as she points to the strings the fermented soybeans have left.

“You wanted this.”

“It’s yummy.”

“Then deal.”

Then they have a war where they see who can make the grossest face sticking their tongue out, and Natsu’s a giggly mess once again, cheeks pink from laughing too hard. “Shou, Shou, hurry up! I’m hungry.”

Shouyou, as instructed by the queen, rolls the sushi as tight as he can before cutting it neatly with a wet knife. “Tadda.” He shows her the plate, and it doesn’t exactly look appetizing since natto never does, and he doesn’t exactly love natto, but Natsu’s cheer more than makes up for it.

“Yay!” She pops one in her mouth, chewing loudly before kissing Shouyou messily on the cheek. “Natto cheek!”

Wiping as his cheek, he looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “You little monster.” He picks up the rice scooper, waving it in the air as Natsu runs away shrieking, small footsteps pattering away. He chases her because he knows she’ll have fun, and because, despite his own exhaustion, he can handle it as long as she’s happy.

She’ll grow taller one day, and she won’t need him anymore. But she needs him right now and that has to be enough.

Only two people sit at the dinner table that night.

 

 

The pain in his face is what wakes Shouyou up in the morning. Sometime in the middle of the night, Natsu has crawled into his bed and is now pressed up next to him, her body emitting heat. Reluctantly, he moves her off him as carefully as possible, getting out of bed with a hand cupped over his face. The cold air is always unwelcome, but always present.

He walks half blind to the washroom, eyes crusted shut, and reaches clumsily for the tap. Cold water. Oh well. He splashes it onto his face, shivering, and uses a towel to wipe the water away after. He tentatively lifts his head up to the mirror, wondering what he’ll find. Will it be purple? Black? Blue? Is it swollen? He can see out of both eyes fine, so at least if it is, it hasn’t reached his eye.

Although, now that swelling is mentioned, his face doesn’t nearly feel numb and puffy enough.

He looks in the mirror, sucking in a breath and…oh…it’s pretty bad. Gently, he pokes his cheek and recoils. It’s bruised, but not too puffy, which is good. Although, it does look a bit bigger than normal. The bruising itself is a lovely plethora of colours, a bit like outer space, and he has no idea how to explain to Natsu why his cheek is suddenly part purple.

Usually, when something like this happens in a book, the character puts foundation on and suddenly the bruise is invisible. But Shouyou’s tried that before, and firstly, he doesn’t have any in his skin tone, and secondly, apparently, to cover a bruise, you have to cover it in green first or something. He doesn’t actually know, and he doesn’t have the materials even if it’s true, so he’ll just have to suck it up.

He goes for a morning jog, even though it’s drizzling out, and the fresh air helps calm the thumping in his chest. When he gets back, Natsu’s already awake, sitting on his bed with her school clothes already on. “Breakfast!” She says until she sees Shouyou’s face. She jumps off the bed and walks up to him, mouth opening. “Shou!” She exclaims. “Your face…why—” And then she bursts into tears, clinging onto his waist. “Does it hurt? Does it hurt a lot?”

Shouyou feels the crack resonate inside his chest, breaking him apart. “No, no,” he hushes her, picking her up. “Not at all. I wasn’t paying attention and a volleyball hit my face.”

“Again?” She sniffles, seemingly a tad more relieved.

“Yes, yes.” He nods, kissing her hair. “Again.”

“Brother is an idiot.”

“Yes, your brother is a big, fat idiot,” he agrees.

“No,” her voice tinkles, and her teary eyes light up. “A small, very small, idiot. Brother is skinny and small.”

Shouyou lets himself laugh, and feels a hitch in his breath and she leans over and smacks her lips on the bruise. “There,” she pats his head happily. “Now it’ll heal faster.”

 _Oh._ A warmth flutters inside his ribcage like a trapped bird, small and fragile. “Thank you,” and he grins up at her. A real smile that he projects all the happiness he feels into, hoping that she can feel it wrap around her. “Now how’s about breakfast?”

“Rice and pickles!”

He doesn’t even bother arguing with her. He gets out the leftover rice and nukes it before filling a bowl with a couple varieties of pickle vegetables, bringing it to the table.

She eats all of it, and even eats the pickles Shouyou doesn’t eat. “Sit still,” she orders once they’re done, and then runs off.

He sits still, as she asked, even though he doesn’t know why. But then she runs back with his pills in her hands and his forgets to breathe for a second.

It’s not like she doesn’t know Shouyou takes pills, but she’s never gotten them for him before. He forgets to take them sometimes, and it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. But now…

He takes them, looking at her, and she stares at him with hopeful eyes. “These help you, right?”

Slowly, as if stunted, he nods. “Y-yes,” he stumbles over his words. “Thank you.” His hands are shaking, trembling, and nearly has a heart attack when she reaches up and wraps her smaller ones around his, steadying him.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’ll protect you from all the big, bad monsters.”

They’re words only someone so young could say _,_ yet they’re all the _right words._ He doesn’t know how to respond, and how to express his gratefulness because suddenly, everything’s a little too much. _But I want to be the one protecting_ you _,_ he wants to say, but he can’t seem to find the breath to do so. Instead, he lets her take the pill bottle back and shake two white pills into his hands, running off and filling a teacup with warm water.

“Here.” She hands it to him, full of innocent concern, and he thinks that this is it, this is the moment he’s going to cry for real in front of her and there’s nothing he can do.

He sucks in a deep breath and drowns the pills before running a hand through her fiery hair—the same colour as his own. “I love you,” he says, even though he’s sure she knows. But he has to say it.

“I love big brother too.”

He gets her backpack and puts it on her shoulders, and she reaches for his hand. He complies, letting her hold his own, even though he’s sure he’s probably freezing. But she doesn’t seem to mind. “Are you going to bike us there?”

“We can bus if you want.”

“Uh uh,” she shakes her head. “I want to sit on Shou’s bike.”

“You have to hold on reaaally tight,” he warns, and she nods her head up and down vigorously.

“I know, I know.”

So he brings his bike out, making sure to lock the door, and lets Natsu blow warm air on both their hands. He sets her on the seat and settles in front. It’ll be more tiring because he can’t sit, and they have to go down a mountain path, but he’s sure he can handle it. He’s in shape, and his stamina is apparently limitless (although, it’s not. Really) so he breathes deeply and kicks off. With Natsu constantly chatting behind him and pointing at various crows and the odd pigeon, he manages to drown out the roaring thunder pounding against his brain.

 

 

The moment he walks into volleyball practice, he’s forced to sit down.

“Hinata, your face,” Yamaguchi gasps, and even Tsukishima looks mildly concerned. Everyone voices their thoughts, but Asahi is probably the worst.

“I did that,” he laments, covering his face. “I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.” At one point, he even gets on his knees in front of Shouyou until, flustered, Shouyou makes him get back.

It takes, _“Really, Asahi-san, I can barely feel it.”_ And, _“It really doesn’t hurt at all,”_ before Asahi finally looks a bit more placated. Both are lies, but white lies, so he’ll use them liberally.

“I can play, really,” he tries a couple of time. Because _really,_ you would think he broke both his legs with the way his they’re acting. He’d be lying if he says he’s not the least bit flattered, but he would really prefer if they’d stop. He doesn’t bother arguing more, but that seems to be a mistake because they all keep shooting him concerned glances throughout practice.

At one point, he even hears Nishinoya whisper too loudly into Tanaka’s ear, “Say, doesn’t Shouyou usually argue more about playing? You think he’s alright?”

And Tanaka, not even bothering to whisper, says, “Maybe he’s just in too much pain.”

Which makes Asahi look horrified all over again, and Daichi hits both of the troublemakers on the head, causing the two to look back with sheepish grins and be met with a scolding glare.

At some point, Suga comes and sits next to Shouyou on the bench, full of concern and softness. “Hinata, are you really okay?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed over warm eyes. And maybe because it’s Suga, but Shouyou suddenly wants to spill everything.

He doesn’t though. Instead, he forces his feelings back into a box and shuts it, wishing there was actually a physical lock he could capture them with.

“Just a bit tired,” he allows himself to give, hoping it’ll have a comforting effect, but Suga only tenses.

“ _Hinata,”_ Suga says again, this time much more sternly. His shoulders are all squared up and he even bends over a little to look Shouyou straight in the eyes. Really, never let Suga’s initial soft exterior fool you. Shouyou knows how sharp the third year’s back bone really is.

Shouyou looks back, straight into brown eyes, unflinching. But Suga keeps looking, and looking, with a resolve even more stubborn than Shouyou’s, and he finds himself wavering, the box cracking inside of him.

“Thing have been…bad at home…is all. Nothing else, really,” Shouyou finally says, and he thinks he can actually see the pity flooding Suga’s eyes. He suddenly can’t look at them at all and instead diverts his attention to the court, watching them all practice. Practice without him.

And things like this are exactly why he doesn’t like to tell people, and he hasn’t even said half of it yet. Nor is he ever going to. He’s not okay, and he’s not okay with not being okay, but it’s just how his life has turned out to be so he either keeps on living or kills himself.

Honestly, sometimes the second option sounds better, but that scares him. Back when his mother still got out of bed regularly, she cried for him. She found him in the bathtub and wrapped him in a mother’s love, arms stronger than him, holding him steady as his head got fuzzier and fuzzier. He can barely remember what that feels like anymore because her absence leaves a gaping hole much more prominent than her careful attention ever did.

“Thank you for telling me,” he hears Suga say, but he still can’t bring himself to look over, so he just nods. Up and down, slowly. “If—if you need someone to talk to,” the older sounds a little more hesitant, softer, and sweeter than honey, “You can trust any of us, alright?”

Shouyou’s heart aches, deeper than he can describe, and he nods again, this time because his words get caught in his throat. For a second, he thinks he’s actually choking on them, but what finally comes it sounds more like a dry sob. And before he knows it, dry sobs turn into wet sobs, and he finds himself crushed against Suga’s chest. A chest much stronger than it looks, and arms much steadier than Hinata’s own.

“Oh, Hinata.” The older holds him, letting Shouyou completely relinquish control. His sobs seem to shake the third year, and Shouyou’s completely overwhelmed. He knows it’s not just Suga anymore, and that all the others are there too. He can even see Ennoshita right in front of him, a large hand on his quivering knees.

No one talks or says anything, and everyone somehow knows that it’s not just about the bruise anymore. Not just about physical pain. Instead, they let him cry. And Shouyou knows he’s going to be so embarrassed come after, but he can’t bring himself to care. He cares more that he’s getting his gross tears all over Suga than he cares about anything else.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, sounding strangled, “so sorry.”

“Hush,” Suga soothes, running a finger through his tangled mop of orange hair, cold skin relaxing against his warm scalp. Suga’s pretty, and gentle, and if Shouyou is any semblance of who he pretends to be, he would wish to stay forever. But because he’s not, and because he’s an _actor,_ he knows he’ll have to untangle himself soon and face his teammates without trying to dig his own grave in the ground.

But _later._ That can come later, and for now, he lets himself be exactly what he is—a _kid._ Everything else can come later.

 

 

“Shouyou.”

Heart freezing, Shouyou barely dares to breathe. He hasn’t heard that voice in three weeks, and he’s suddenly too scared to hope.

“Shouyou,” he hears again from the room down the hallway, echoing in the house. It’s late, he’s washing the dishes, and Natsu has fallen asleep on the couch in the living room. “Shou-chan, come here.” His mother’s voice is cracked and dry from misuse, and it barely sounds like her, but it’s still his _mama._

Yet, he finds himself frozen, carefully setting down the dishes as every muscle in his body stiffens. “Coming,” he whispers as he tiptoes to the door, wiping his wet hands on his well-worn pants. “I’m coming.” It’s not like she’ll hear him, but it’s more for his sake.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he cracks open the door, aware of every creak and groan the hinges of the door make, announcing his presence.

“Mama?” He dares to ask, turning on the light in the dark room, immediately having to blink rapidly for his eyes to adjust.

“Shouyou.” His mother smile up at him tiredly with chapped, pale lips, her waxy skin glistening with sweat. For a second, he hopes, but then he notices her glazed eyes and finds a stone crushing his insides. She won’t remember this. She’s too out of it to know what she’s doing.

“Mama, go to sleep.” He walks over slowly and kneels by her bedside, a shaking, _always shaking,_ hand tentatively petting her stringy hair. It used to be dark and sleek, so different from Shouyou’s own, yet still so beautiful. But now it’s just oily and dull. It sticks to her face, and he has to take a couple strands from out of her mouth, wanting to run away. But he stays rooted, somehow, letting out a strange sound he wasn’t aware he could wake.

“Shou, I want…” She reaches out a veiny hand, thin arms flopping back to the bed with it becomes too much effort. “I just wanted to see—” A wracking cough shakes her entire body as she sits up, and Shouyou forgets to breathe, crying out as leans over to support her.

“Mama, mama, lie back down. You’re too weak.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “No, Shou.” She looks up at him, bags hanging from her eyes deeper than the bruise on his face.  A bruise he’s glad she’s probably too out of it to see. “You never come see me anymore. Shou,” a tear treks down her face, and maybe he should feel something like empathy, but Shouyou just feels an empty anger that he knows, he _knows_ is unjustified. “Shouyou, I just wanted to see my son.” She breaks into hacking coughs again, hunching over as her breaths catch on sobs, and he pats her back slowly as she finally straightens up. “I just wanted to see my son.”

He swallows, unsure of how to react. He almost wants to cry too. “You see me all the time.” He dampens the cloth next to her in the bucket of water he changed hours ago, wiping her face with it. “I brought you dinner earlier, right?”

She’s looking at him again, all sharp cheekbones and sunken, sallow skin. He can see her thin chest moving up and down with each breath, and he wants her to lie down again if only so he could put the blanket over the bones. If only so he could hide the corpse. But he shouldn’t be feeling like that. He _knows._ It’s his own mother and she can’t help that she’s sick and withering away, but he can’t stand it. He hates it because he loves her so much and she _won’t be there for much longer._ And what’s going to happen after that? Is he supposed to hold on until he’s eighteen to take care of Natsu? What’s he’s going to do if his sister gets taken away too?

“You were…obligated,” she rasps. “I just wanted to—” a hitch in the breath “—see you on your own time.” Clutching at her chest with one hand and reaching for Shouyou with the other, long nails outstretched like claws, new tears trek down her withered face. He stumbles backwards so fast he almost trips, and his mother’s hand drops as she wails. “I just wanted to hold you!” she cries, gasping.

Feeling choked, Shouyou cautiously makes his way over again, gently pressing her down. “Lie down, mama,” he whispers, chest clenching. “I’ll come see you later, alright? Sleep. You won’t remember this.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but closes her mouth instead, glazed eyes closing as she sinks into the pillow, letting Shouyou tuck her in. “Goodnight, Shou-chan.”

He swallows heavily, but it doesn’t make talking any easier. The longer he waits, the harder it gets. _Goodnight, mama,_ he thinks, and it bounces around in his head as a reminder of what he’s too terrified to say aloud.

He walks out and closes the door, making his way to the living room.

“C’mon, Natsu. Oomph,” he picks her up, hoping he doesn’t sound as fragile as he feels, and she drowsily peers at him. “Time for bed.”

She nods clumsily, making a sound of affirmation before letting her head fall onto his shoulder, dozing off once again. All they have is each other.

 

 

“Sorry! I can’t come to practice today because I have to go pick my sister up!” Shouyou folds himself into a ninety degree bow, not daring to look up until Coach Ukai coughs awkwardly.

“It’s, uh, fine,” he says as if he doesn’t know how to deal with teens bowing to him. “Just make sure you show up tomorrow.”

Shouyou nods as enthusiastically as he can be bothered, smiling with teeth. “Thank you so much!” He runs off before Coach Ukai can say anything else, making sure to have a spring in his step.

He’s faltering—has been since the day he broke down in front of his teammates—but he’s an actor goddammit and he’ll make it work.

“Hinata!” Couch Ukai calls after him. “Be safe!”

He doesn’t bother replying verbally, but he waves a hand behind him to show that he’s heard before hopping on his bike.

A splintering has started, and if he doesn’t take care of it soon, cracks will turn into breaks. And he can’t let that happen. Not when Natsu needs him. Not when she relies on him even more than he relies on her.

She’s already waiting when he reaches the school, but he doesn’t miss the way her expression falls first before lifting. “Brother?” She asks as he helps her onto his bike. “Where’s mama?”

“Sleeping.” It’s the only thing he knows how to say now. He knows Natsu knows their mother is not well, at least to some extent, but he can’t bring himself to tell her how bad it really is—how crushing their mother’s sickness has become and what it has and will do to their little family.

“But she’s always sleeping lately,” Natsu frowns, tugging at his shirt from behind. “She didn’t even have time to do my hair this morning.”

Shouyou tries not to be hurt, but it’s hard. He’s trying everything he can to be enough for his little sister and to be able to fill in the space of their mother, and he knows, realistically, that he’ll never be enough, but he _wants to be._ He wants to be enough so bad that her accidental rejection feels like scalding lava pouring down his throat. “But _I_ can do your hair.” He tries his best not to sound too petulant but he probably fails.

He can’t actually see Natsu because he’s in front, but he feels her arms wrap tighter around his waist. “I know! And it’s super pretty, but I miss mama.” And _oh gosh,_ she sounds so innocently oblivious, and Shouyou has to fight to not fall off the bike right then and there, forcing his legs to keep pedalling steadily. “When will she come out of her room?”

_I don’t know. I wish I knew too. I miss her just as much as you do. Please, please stop asking me these things because I don’t know. Idon’tknow._

He’s glad that she can’t see the expression on his face.

 

 

Somehow, he finds himself at a sleepover at Ennoshita’s house with the rest of the team, having caved after they said he could bring Natsu because he didn’t want her to spend another night in their dark house anymore.

So he packed their bags earlier and now they all have futons spread over the floor, sitting on the couch with twenty bags of popcorn watching Mulan. Except, no one’s actually watching the movie. Natsu’s already asleep somehow, even through the ruckus, Nishinoya and Tanaka are having a violent pillow fight, and Kageyama and Asahi somehow get pulled in. Then Tsukishima gets dragged in too by Yamaguchi, Suga shrugs and picks up a pillow, and Daichi follows suit. Ennoshita even convinces Narita and Kinoshita to join it, and before Shouyou knows it, he’s in the middle getting bombarded by pillows.

And he’s floating. Far, far away, covered in soft pillows and shouting and laughter, and he doesn’t want to leave. He just wants to close his eyes and breathe this in and cherish it forever. But then he thinks of his mother, and wonders if it’s really alright to leave her alone for his own selfish desires. What if she dies tonight, and he’s not there?

The thought makes him pause, and the pillows are suddenly too close, and everyone is too loud, thrumming inside his ears with painful echoes. He reaches out for someone, trying to tell them to stop because he needs to get home and make sure his mother’s breathing. Because he has to make sure she’s not dead, and not asking for him again, and because he’s been a terrible son who deserves death more than his mother ever will. Because he keeps remembering the bathtub filled with red water, and wondering why he’s still alive.

And he needs to _get to his mother._  

“Mama,” he breathes, eyes blown wide as he searches around the room. His sister, previously curled up on the couch sits up, raising her arms as she yawns.

“Shouyou,” she calls, but her voice gets drowned out. “Shouyou, where’s mama?”

_Where’s mama, where’s mama, where’s mama? Indeed._

His arm reaches out, trying to get to her, and he dry sobs, a tearless jerk of the body _._ He sobs because he wants his mother, and Natsu starts sobbing too.

It’s then than the pillows and the shouting and laughing stop, and all eyes turn and burn into Shouyou. Surprisingly, it’s Tsukishima who reaches him first as Suga picks up Natsu.

“Hey, hey,” Suga shushes, humming. “It’s alright. There’s no reason to cry. I’m sorry, we’ll be quieter.”

But she shakes her head, tears flying. “No, no. I want Shouyou. I want my brother.”

Tsukishima has his hand on Shouyou’s shoulders, patting him awkwardly as he cries. When Shouyou looks up at the blonde’s face, he finds that the taller boy look stricken. “Hey…we didn’t accidentally hurt you, right?” Tsukishima asks, fidgeting.

“No,” Shouyou hiccups as Suga brings his sister over, and he holds her firmly against his chest, wishing for Tsukishima not to let go because it’s the only thing holding him steady. And then Kageyama’s there too, patting Shouyou’s head just as awkwardly. “Sorry. I just thought of something sad.”

And then Natsu says, “Mama,” again, and Shouyou feels himself breaking.

“I’m sorry.” He digs his face into her kneck, trying to gather warmth. “I’m so sorry. Mama’s not here right now.”

“I miss mama.”

“I know,” he says, and she sobs even harder and louder. “I miss her too.”

Daichi bends down so that he’s on Shouyou’s level, and gently asks him, “Hinata, you can tell us anything.”

Shouyou knows that, of course. He trusts his team completely, but this is private. This is between him and his sister, and he doesn’t want them to know. But at the same time, he does. He wants to spill, and crumble, and he wants them to put him back together again until he’s full. Until he’s _Shouyou,_ and not the actor he’s become.

Natsu lets out another loud wail, and Shouyou’s reminded of his priorities, so he looks everyone in the eye and lies. “We’re just being big babies. We’ve never been away from our mom so long. That’s all there is to it.” And sure, it’s an embarrassing spin on things. A teenager who cries because he misses his mom, but it’s better than telling the truth. _My mom’s sick. She’s dying. She hasn’t come out of her room in over two months. I can’t stand to look at her and all she wants is to look at me and nothing’s fine. I don’t know how to take over the role as a mother for my sister and I don’t know how to take care of myself. I’m mentally and physically exhausted, and I kind of want to die._ No way is he saying that.

No one believes him. He knows. It’s a bad lie at best and no one misses Tsukishima’s, “Bullshit,” that he mutters under his breath until Kageyama elbows him.

Daichi looks disappointed though, and Shouyou hates that. “Alright. Just…” he breathes, and Shouyou knows the feeling of not knowing what to say very well so he empathizes. “Just know that we’ll listen.”

“Thank you, but it’s really not necessary.” He even smiles because he knows everyone feels better when he smiles, even though he doesn’t understand why. But it doesn’t seem to work this time. Instead, everyone just looks sadder. Maybe it’s because he’s losing his touch. Maybe it’s because he feels delicate. Even Nishinoya and Tanaka look serious, and they’re rarely ever serious outside of actual matches.

“Yeah, Shouyou. Listen to your captain and your senpais.” The libero comes around, clapping Shouyou on the shoulder as Tsukishima draws back.

He should feel loved. He should feel grateful and relieved and surrounded by warmth, but he just feels pressured. Still, he nods, hiding his face in Natsu’s hair, wishing to just go to sleep. The weight inside his chest presses, and Shouyou forgets what it’s like to breathe.

“Brother,” Natsu sniffles quietly, only for his ears. “Why are you lying to them?”

Strangled, he chokes out a startled sob, holding her even tighter. “I’m not. Everything’s fine.”

“You didn’t take your pills this morning.”

“I forgot.”

“Shouyou. I hate it when you lie. All you do is lie now.”

 _Oh._ If he thought the weight was bad before, it’s worse now, cracking his ribs and twisting his heart, forcing his stomach to do gymnastics until he wants to rush to the toilet and hurl. His lashes aren’t catching his tears anymore, and they flow freely.

_“All you do is lie now.”_

But how can he possibly tell the truth? He looks at her small body against his own small body, and sits down on the couch, humming a lullaby under his breath.

He can barely remember the tune, but he hums it anyway. “I’m sorry. I won’t lie anymore,” he says, kissing under her cheeks to catch her tears.

He’s sandwiched between Kageyama and Tsukishima, feeling tiny, but they are strong where he is not.

He almost misses it when Natsu says, “That’s another lie, isn’t it?”

 

 

It’s during practice when it happens. He brought his sister because there’s no one to take care of her at home, and Shimizu and Yachi won’t let anything happen to her. They fawn over, Yachi cooing louder than the birds outside Shouyou’s window on early, humid mornings.

Natsu breaks away, walking up to him as she shakes something.

“Brother, you forgot to take your pills.”

It’s instantaneous. The sound of the volleyball hitting the floor stops. The squeaking shoes quiet, and all that’s left is the static roaring in Shouyou’s ears.

She’s holding his pill bottle in her small hands, and his world has stopped turning, or maybe it’s turning too fast. Either way, he can’t see anything clearly except for the bottle, and he’s hyperaware of everyone on his team looking at him. Wondering, curious eyes, probably wanting to know what this is all about.

“Natsu.” He sounds breathless, choked. “Put that back, okay?”

Confused, she tilts her head to the side, pulling out his limp hand and shaking two pills into it. “But you need these. You get all sad otherwise.”

He curls his fingers around the pills, not daring to look behind or to the side of him, scared at what he’ll see. Instead, he sends her a smile that he knows doesn’t meet his eyes. That’s more forced than a smile’s ever been for him. “I know.” Oh, he’s a dying cat now. “How’s about you go sit down now?”

Slowly, her face falls, and it seems she realizes that she’s done something wrong, and she nods, trudging back to her seat.

Shouyou closes his eyes tightly, feeling his nails dig into the soft flesh of his palms, and tries to keep back the hot tears that have started to press up against his eyelids. “I’ll take you out for ice cream later, alright?” He doesn’t open his eyes, but he hears her lackluster reply, and feels his chest clench heavily.

“Hinata.” It’s Coach Ukai, and Shouyou hears him walking closer, but his eyes remain firmly shut. “You take pills?”

He knows there’s no use lying now, so he nods stiffly, wanting the ground to swallow him. It’s too hot in the gym, and someone sets a hand on his arm. He flinches, even though he doesn’t mean to, and he feels the arm retract.

It’s Kageyama, probably, but that just makes Shouyou feel worse. He doesn’t want his setter to see him like this. Maybe if he clenches the pills long enough, they’ll dissolve into his sweaty hands.

“What kind?” Coach Ukai prods.

Hinata shakes his head side to side, probably harder than he needs to.

“Hinata-kun.” This time it Takeda-sensei, voice gentler than Coach Ukai’s, and Hinata doesn’t have to see to know that he’s crouching. “We need to know these things as a health precaution. Is it dangerous if you miss a dose?”

He shakes his head again, and his eyelids are finally letting his tears through no matter how hard he squeezes, and they fall down his face.

And Tsukishima, may he burn in hell, says, “Those are antidepressants. A popular brand.”

Shouyou opens his eyes a slit just in time to see Daichi nods somberly and add in, “Yes, I recognize them as well.”

He shuts them again, angry, and his knees suddenly feel too weak as his legs give out beneath him. Someone catches him before he hits the floor and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is. The familiar scent of sweat and pine-scented laundry detergent already tells him that it’s Kageyama.

“Open your eyes,” Kageyama says. “Dumbass. No one cares if you cry. You’re a crybaby all the time anyway.”

And it’s true. Shouyou cries all the time, for many different reasons, but usually his team only sees him cry happy tears. Tears from winning games. And sometimes, sadder, more frustrated tears from losing. But those aren’t the moments when he’s the weakest. He’s vulnerable now, and he just wants to be alone.

“Put me down first.” Shouyou pretends his voice doesn’t wobble, and Kageyama complies, setting him on the bench. When he opens his eyes, it’s to bright lights and Natsu’s tear stained face, at some point going up to her brother. Then he sees his team, and realizes that maybe he should tell them what’s going on.

They’re practically family. They deserve to know, right? Besides, if it starts to affect the way he plays, then it’ll really get bad, and he can’t have that. He can’t even stand to think of that. It sounds like a nightmare come to life.

“I’ll tell you,” he decides after several beats of silence, shuffling his shoes in the dust makes on the floor. _Hey, floor, now would be a good time to swallow me. Like, right now. Seriously._

“Shouyou,” Natsu’s small voice pipes up as she clambers into his lap, tugging his hair. “Shouyou, what if they can help you?”

“Well, we can’t if he won’t tell us,” Suga kneels, speaking gently to Natsu’s face as he takes her little hands in his. “But if he tells us, of course we’ll do everything we can to help.”

It’s inarguable, and everyone agrees. Even Tsukishima says, “Idiots are the ones we need to help the most.” Which is…more touching than anything Shouyou thought Tsukishima capable of saying.

Shouyou fidgets in his seat, wiping his eyes roughly with his free hand as the other continues to clutch the damn pills. Maybe he should just spike them to the floor. He’s good at that.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admits, lips trembling. Gosh, if he had a mirror, he would definitely see red-rimmed eyes staring back.

“Brother, brother, you don’t have to cry anymore. See, they said they would help.” Imploringly, Natsu looks at Shouyou before glancing at the rest of the team, getting off Hinata’s lap and bowing. “Please help my brother.”

She looks so bizarrely grown up in that moment that Shouyou feels his pupils blown wide in disbelief, sitting up a little straighter. If it was anyone else, he would’ve been mortified, but maybe it’s because it Natsu that he feels almost grateful instead.

“Natsu…” his voice trails off, and he pulls his knees up to his chin, squeezing his feet onto the bench in the space in front. He feels smaller like this, more comfortable. He’s more used to being little than being exposed.

A gentle, almost a brush, of another hand presses against him, and he stares up into the face of their manager, her eyes shimmering. “Hinata-kun, you need to breathe.”

She’s right. He’s a bit unsteady, switching between holding his breath and breathing really loudly without even realising it, his legs bouncing up and down at rapid-fire speed. What actually helps him calm down a little is staring at Yachi who looks even more anxious than him, bouncing up and down the heels of her feet, opening and closing her mouth with tiny sounds like she wants to says something but she’s too scared to.

Usually, Shouyou would reach out and tell her to just say what she wants, but he kind of can’t get any words out without the fear of biting his own tongue. So he stays quiet and small, and tries to blend into the background with his orange _orange_ hair, wishing for a duller colour.

He doesn’t feel bright, and fired-up, and _orange._ He just feels tired.

A water bottle is suddenly thrust in his face by Coach Ukai, and Shouyou’s so startled he nearly falls backwards off the bench, yelping. In fact, he would’ve if Takeda-sensei didn’t reach behind him, keeping him from tumbling down. “Careful!” He cries, looking a bit too frazzled to be a teacher. He seems to be on the same nervous level as the rest of the team, which is simultaneously amusing and disheartening.

“Sorry,” Hinata says once his heartbeat returns to normal. He actually has no idea what he’s apologizing for. In fact, he probably doesn’t have to apologize at all. “Sorry for saying sorry. Wait, that’s not what I meant. I just—”

_Why. Can’t. His. Mouth. Just. Work. Properly._

“Hinata.” A soft, careful hand grips his wrist, and long, dark hair swings into his face. “It’s fine.”

He thinks it’s the most he’s ever heard Shimizu say to him. Which is obviously not true, but it feels like it.

It feels like everyone’s talking to him more than they ever had.

“Take your pills, okay?” She says, putting her hand around his, and how can he say _no?_

She’s his senpai. She’s what their entire volleyball club looks up to. The manager, the caretaker, the mother. He nods, taking another deep breath before putting the two pills into his mouth. He takes the water bottle from Coach Ukai and drinks two heavy gulps, feeling the pills slide down his throat like a death sentence.

Which is silly because Shouyou knows what a death sentence feels like. He’s literally felt the life drain out of him. He saw himself bleed out. Yet, in front of his teammates, his little makeshift family, it really does feel like something akin to being burned alive. At the stake. A kabob ready to be eaten.

Every single eye is trained on his, following his hands, then his throat, and he makes his skin itch terribly. “Please,” he speaks up, and everyone flinches back like they’ve been caught red handed, “stop looking at me.”

Immediately, they all turn away, and Kageyama looks like he’s blushing. Well, everyone looks like they’re blushing. Shouyou wants to tell them it’s alright. That it’s nothing to be ashamed about and if that he were them, he would be curious too. In fact, he feels a little bad that he’s not saying just that. But then Shimizu squeezes his hand again before getting up, and he feels like maybe he doesn’t have to say any more for the time being.

His team will understand, just like they always do. They must work together so well that their minds have synced up.

Shouyou gets up too, stretching out his cramped legs that he’s squeezed up against himself for probably too long, and picks Natsu up as she squeals.

“Put me down!” She laughs as Shouyou swings her. He thinks Nishinoya gets out a phone to film.

“No.” He nuzzles her nose, and she shrieks. “You’re my baby sister. I’m never letting you go.”

He doesn’t actually feel that much better, but the queasy feeling in his stomach has subsided and it doesn’t feel like the end of the universe as he knows it anymore. They’re just a couple of measly pills. It’s not like his team will disown him because he’s depressed. Even if sometimes it feels like it. Even if sometimes, he doesn’t think he deserves them.

He should talk to them. He knows. He _knows._ It’s probably gnawing on their minds now, and Shouyou knows he hates it when things gnaw on his mind, so he can only imagine what they’re all feeling at the moment. Especially when he already told them he would tell him. But he suddenly doesn’t feel like it anymore.

“I promise to tell you guys,” he mutters, and wow, the gym floor needs a good sweeping. He can feel the dust under his shoes as he walks around. “But is later okay? I’m kind of,” he smiles sheepishly, “emotionally spent today.”

“Of course,” Suga says, smiling gently. “You can tell us whenever you’re ready.”

And he’s not ready yet. He just wants to play volleyball. He just wants to escape for a little while, and he hopes they accept that, even if he can’t bring himself to say anything else. They probably understand anyway. They almost always do.

 

 

“The third years are graduating soon, so we’re all having a sleepover at Suga-san’s house,” Yamaguchi says, bag bumping against Shouyou’s as they walk around the school grounds. It’s lunch, and it’s bright out, and it feels like a waste to stay indoors.

“We just had a sleepover,” Tsukki rolls his eyes, looking up at the cloudless sky. “Figures there’s another one.”

“Shut up.” Yamaguchi reaches over Shouyou and wacks Tsukki on the shoulder, ignoring the way the taller’s eye twitches. “You want to go and you know it. Besides, I’m telling Hinata, not you.”

“Thanks,” Shouyou smiles, chest tightening, “but I can’t make it.” He wants to go. He wants to so bad, but he can’t leave his mom again.

Yamaguchi’s face immediately drops, and it leaves Shouyou with a bitter taste in his mouth. He just wants to make people happy, but that’s been failing lately. Now everyone’s all worried and he doesn’t know how to make it better. “Aw, that’s too bad. Why not though?”

Shouyou swallows. “I…” He searches for an excuse, digging through the crevice of his mind, but he can’t think of anything to say. They would let him bring Natsu, so saying he has to babysit her wouldn’t be accepted, and they do he doesn’t care enough about school to use homework as an excuse. Or Yamaguchi might bring up that they can all do homework together, and that would make him want to go even more.

“You can be honest with us, you know.” To Shouyou’s surprise, it’s Tsukishima who says this, hands deep in his pockets as he refuses to look into Shouyou’s eyes.

It’s strangely touching. Well, not strangely, but it’s definitely something Shouyou wouldn’t expect Tsukishima to say. What a tsundere, honestly. He replays Tsukki’s words, and finds that it’s something that never crossed Shouyou’s mind. As an actor, and well, a _liar,_ he never really considered telling the truth. But… “I, uh, have to take care of my mom,” he says, looking at the yellow grass.

It’s the kind of thing that stings even to say, rubbing on all the raw wounds that aren’t visible to treat, and that the pills he takes numbs but doesn’t get rid of.

There’s an uncomfortable silence broken by their footsteps, and then Yamaguchi lets out a heavy breath, “I’m…I don’t want to say I’m sorry, but…You know.”

And Shouyou _does_ know. He knows how hard it is to find the right things to say in this circumstance, mostly because he never knows what the right thing to say is either when it comes to his sick mother, but he appreciates the sentiment. So he smiles at Yamaguchi and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” Which is apparently the wrong thing to say because then Yamaguchi’s eyes well up with tears and Tsukishima looks infinitely more tense.

“What a fucking idiot,” Tsukishima says, slouching casually to one side. Shouyou’s almost ready to be offended, but then Tsukishima says, “You shouldn’t be used to it.”

And wow. “You really do care, Tsukishima,” Shouyou says, and his lips almost move up to beam mechanically before he stops it, realizing that a smile he doesn’t mean has no value at all. Instead, he lets his expression fall naturally, aware of how—ironically— _unnatural_ it probably looks on his face, and he feels his lips tremble.

“Don’t be a crybaby.”

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi cries, but stops when Shouyou lets out a watery laugh.

“Thanks, you guys. I’ll see what I can do, and maybe I’ll be able to make it to the sleepover after all.”

 

 

It’s actually his mother’s nurse who saves the day. She comes over three times a week, and they’re already planning for her to come by every day to take care of Shouyou’s mother until her…death. But Ishii-san is a saint and although she’s not obligated to, she volunteered to spend the night at the Hinata residence anyway to take care of his mother and Natsu the moment Shouyou brought the predicament up. “So you boys can have a boy’s night,” she said, smiling fondly when Hinata jumped ten feet in the air, combining it with a badly coordinated fist-bump.

It’s like a boulder being lifted off his shoulders, and he feels eighty pounds lighter, fast enough to beat Kageyama in a race one hundred times over. Which is why he races Kageyama to school, something he hasn’t done for a while, and why he wins.

(The score is 288-285, Shouyou in the lead)

“I can go to the sleepover!” He bursts into the gym, jumping so high he nearly crashes down straight onto Kageyama. Which has, believe it or not, happened before.

“That’s great, Hinata!” Suga says, smiling closed eyes and with teeth. A wonderful smile. Daichi smiles the same, although he doesn’t look quite as soft. But it’s still wonderful. Incredible (Shouyou made someone smile again!).

He feels amazing. His receives go good too, and he spikes the ball and _BAM_ and _SHOOP,_ his palms stinging and red by the end of practice. He loves it. He _loves_ it. So, _so_ much. He can’t believe he almost forgot how much he loves volleyball, especially now when it’s one of the only things he has left.

“Nice job today,” Kageyama huffs before they leave the gym together, and Shouyou beams, nodding.

“I know right! I think my receives are really improving, right, right, kageyama.”

Kageyama doesn’t actually give him a verbal response, but Shouyou can feel it like how he can feel Kageyama breathe. Can feel it in the light pat Kageyama leaves on his shoulder, tinged with concern. It’s funny how the taller one never seems to have a way with words, but somehow still gets his point across anyway.

Either way, it feels nice (indescribable, amazing!) to get closer to his team. He thinks that maybe, in another universe among a million different universes, there’s one where all of them form a big, happy family.

 

 

“Hinata!” Suga raises a hand as he jogs over, and Shouyou stops in his path. Catching up, Suga bends over to catch his breath, huffing as if he ran a long way, and then straightens up with a radiant smile. “We’re compiling a list of food to buy for the sleepover tomorrow. What do you like to eat?”

“Oh.” Shouyou pouts, wracking his brain. “Anything’s fine. I’ll eat it anyway.”

Suga laughs, ruffling Shouyou’s hair. “I know you will, but what do you prefer?”

Well, food is food, and Shouyou likes to eat Katsudon before games for good luck, but Katsudon isn’t really a sleepover food. He likes popcorn, but there’s no way that’s not already on the list. He chews on his lip and knows that if he doesn’t give an answer, Suga really won’t leave him alone. “Uh…strawberry lollipops,” Shouyou says, voice going higher at the end like a question.

Suga blinks. “Huh,” he muses, but he nods anyway. “Alright. Thanks, Hinata. Are you walking home?”

“Nuh uh,” Shouyou shakes his head, feeling his lips stretch up into an awkward smile. “Biking.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“It’s fine. Thank you Suga-san.” He bows once, ninety degrees, and then books it out.

It may seem like an odd request to ask for only strawberry lollipops, but there’s something so nostalgic about them. He remembers being younger and tugging as his mom’s skirt at any grocery store, pointing to the candy shelves. And she would say, “You can only pick one.” And Shouyou would always pick the strawberry lollipops. He hasn’t eaten them since she got sick.

Nurse Ishii has picked Natsu up earlier because of Shouyou’s volleyball club, and on his way home, he stops by a Mini Mart. It’s strange, and he doesn’t know why he does it, but he parks his bike outside and walks into the shop.

Maybe it’s because talking to Suga has made him crave them, but he skims through the shelves, aware of the cashier watching him really closely, and picks up a package of fruit flavoured lollipops. He pays for them, _“No bag, thank you, have a nice day,”_ and leaves. Before Shouyou gets onto his bike, he rips the package open, fishes a strawberry flavoured one out, and pops it in his mouth.

He steadies himself with one hand on the handlebar, his other holding the lollipops, and he swirls his tongue around the candy. It tastes like sugar and artificial flavouring, but it also tastes like childhood and naivety. He bites down, crushing the lollipop between his teeth, and chews almost angrily. He doesn’t want to taste it anymore.

 

 

Nurse Ishii frowns, putting the back of her hand over Shouyou’s mom’s forehead.

“She’s a bit hot,” she sighs, eyebrows furrowed as she jots something down. “If it rises anymore, we’ll be in trouble.”

“But she’s always feverish lately.” Shouyou picks at the bed casing as he sits on the corner, careful not to accidently lean on his mother’s frail body.

“Her body is fighting, that’s why, but it’s not good if she gets too hot. It might kill her.”

Shouyou swallows heavily. “Oh…” he whispers. Nurse Ishii comes closer, and wraps him in her arms, carding a hand through his hair.

“You’ll be alright, Hinata-kun. You’re strong.”

Nurse Ishii never says, _“Your mom will live,”_ or _“Don’t give up hope.”_ Because there’s literally no hope to be found. They’re only prolonging her meager life, not preventing her death. His mother has been handed a death sentence and they’re all handling it as best as they can.

Nurse Ishii brings a bowl of soup over, heated only slightly. His mom can’t handle hot food anymore. Or cold food. It’s always only tepid. She gently spoons it into Shouyou’s mom’s mouth, carefully wiping her chin after, and it’s not an unfamiliar sight. It’s what Shouyou does when Nurse Ishii isn’t around.

His mom is barely lucid, only groaning occasionally, swallowing gruelingly. On the third spoon full, she begins to cough loudly and wetly, and Shouyou sits up, rubbing her slowly on the back. For a second, the coughing resides, but then it comes back with vigour, and his mom sits up, hacking.

It’s so sudden. One second she’s eating, and the next, she’s grasping Shouyou’s arms as she begins to convulse, body shaking the entire bed.

A strangled sound gets lodged in Shouyou’s throat, but he forces himself to keep quiet because Natsu’s sleeping. Because if Natsu sees this, he’ll never forgive himself.

Nurse Ishii sets the spoon down, breathing deeply, and grabs the phone. She shuts her eyes, opens them, and shuts them again. It’s not only hard for Shouyou to remain calm, but for her as well.

“An ambulance,” Shouyou croaks, wincing as his mother holds onto him even tighter. He suddenly wants to disassociate, to get out of the situation, and for everything to just stop.

Nurse Ishii nods, solemn, and the only thing that gives her panic away is the way she’s slowly pacing as her free hand rubs up and down her legs, smoothing her pants. “Hello,” she talks quietly over the phone, and Shouyou only catches half of it because of the medical jargon.

He thinks maybe he should be horrified. This could be the last time he sees his mother alive as she convulses in strangled breaths, biting her tongue as she bleeds. Nurse Ishii gently maneuvers her to the side in case she throws up, and Shouyou’s helpless. But he’s not scared. Instead, and he hates himself for this, he’s almost anticipating.

It’s the worst thing he’s ever thought, and he’s never been more disgusted with himself.

It’s just that, he’s so _tired._ She’s not even his mother anymore, and she hasn’t been for months. And he just—

His thoughts get cut off as he starts to cry, and it takes him by surprise because he was so numb a second ago. Nurse Ishii has set the phone down, and it looks like she wants to comfort him but she doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing for her to do but wait now. Nothing she can do for Shouyou, and nothing she can do for his mother.

He presses a hand to his chest and curls up because it _aches._ Because he _abhors_ who he has become. Because he’s actually waiting for his mother to die, and he’s not devastated by it. No, instead, he’s relieved. Instead, he finds himself hoping that this is the last scare, and after that, he’ll be free.

And it’s terrible. It’s so horrible that he can’t put it into words, and he wonders how appalling of a person he must be and why he’s still alive when his mother is dying.  

“Hinata-kun,” Nurse Ishii reaches out, but she doesn’t say anything else. After all, what can she say? _“It’ll be alright”_ Or maybe, _“Everything will be fine.”_ Both sound flimsy and superficial. Just words strung together with no meaning at all.

He wants to move away. He wants his mother to let go. But instead, he’s crushed by her bruising force, held near her as he feels all her tremors and shivers as the convulsing finally stops. He can’t even tell if she’s breathing anymore. The only clue given that she’s alive is that her hands are still vice grips on his arm, pressing to the bone.

“Shouyou,” she groans, but her eyes are closed. She’s probably not coherent. “Don’t die.”

Shouyou feels his eyes widening in disbelieve, angry tears taking the place of the pained ones, and he wants to yank his arms away. What the fuck is she even saying?

“You’re the one who’s dying.” It’s a quiet yell, a slow decent, but it doesn’t even look like she’s heard him. Nurse Ishii doesn’t reprimand him, but she looks stricken, hands trembling as she smooths out the blankets fruitlessly, if only for something to do.

Eventually, the ambulance does arrive, sirens and all, and Nurse Ishii ushers Natsu back to bed when she waddles out, rubbing her eyes.

“Your brother and I are going for a short trip. We’ll be back soon, alright?” Natsu nods, too tired to complain, and goes back to bed after giving Shouyou a kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t cry,” she says, and it only makes Shouyou cry harder. “Have fun on your trip.”

Now it’s Shouyou’s turn to look stricken, and he thinks he does it quite well, face twisting into a suffering that cannot be explained through words.

He tucks his sister in and walks out, closing the door just to see them loading his mother into the back of the ambulance. He gets into Nurse Ishii’s car, and they follow the ambulance’s flashing lights, breaking through the darkness of the night. Even at this hour, there are quite a few cars still on the road.

The car isn’t that big, and it feels a little crammed. It’s obvious that Nurse Ishii is a mother. There are stuffed animals over the backseat, and an extra pairs of shoes tucked under the chair. It reminds him a little of Natsu, even though she’s already growing out of the stuffed animal faze. Far too quickly though. She's growing up too fast.

His legs tremble, and he can’t stop them. It proves futile to try to distract himself from counting he trees outside the window. The car’s moving too fast for that. Instead, he puts his head down into his laps and tries not to throw up.

When they reach the hospital, Shouyou remembers that he forgot to take his pills again.

 

 

“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to make the sleepover tonight.” Shouyou toys with a wire plugged into a wall. He knows he sounds a bit toneless, but he doesn’t try to inject more emotions into his voice.

Everything feels a bit…gray.

His mom is staying at the hospital, and she probably will be until she dies. Which probably isn’t going to take long at all.

Shouyou doesn’t even know how to feel about that anymore. He spent all of last night at the hospital, brought Natsu to school, and then contemplated calling in sick. In the end, he went anyway to get a form and left before noon. If Shouyou was going to the sleepover, he would’ve been getting ready by now. He would’ve been excited, double and triple checking everything in his bag. He would’ve brought too much, like usual when it comes to sleepovers, and he would’ve been happy.

“Oh,” Suga’s voice comes through, crackly from the bad signal. “How come?” He doesn’t demand it, only asks gently, but Shouyou still feels cornered.

“Emergency. Family emergency.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “What happened?” It’s laced with concern, Suga’s disquiet practically becoming personified. Shouyou didn’t think it was even possible to sound so worried.

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” he mumbles, voice cracking midway. He has to stop to breathe before he suffocates on his stupid emotions.

“Hinata…” Suga sounds like he’s about to cry, and it brings with it a short pang of hurt that Shouyou quickly burries. No need for that. No need for anything any longer.

“I’m very sorry, Suga-san. I—” Hinata pauses. He’s never been very good with serious words. He speaks from passion and from the heart, and right now he feels like he has none. “I’ll see you around.” He hangs up before Suga can say anything else, re-evaluates his words, and cringes.

Right, because he’ll see them around. He clenches the resignation paper he has in his hands that he got earlier at school. He’s going to hand it in tomorrow, and then he’s going to avoid everyone like the plague. Tonight, his aunt is going to move in with him and Natsu and he won’t be needed anymore.

Natsu will have someone to take care of her.

In some ways, Shouyou can’t help but be bitter. Why didn’t his aunt move in earlier? Why wait until his mom’s in the hospital. Why leave two kids to deal with a sick parent with nothing but a part-time nurse when an adult could’ve been with them 24/7 the entire time? He doesn’t understand. He puts his head on the table and breathes, realizing that the heaviness inside his chest is only going to get worse.

He gets up, goes into his room, and grabs his pills before swallowing three. Which is one too many, but he doesn’t bother anymore. Slipping his shirt and pants off, he crawls into bed, curling the blanket around him like a safety cape.

He doesn’t even get half an hour of rest before someone starts knocking at the door, and knocks, and keeps knocking. Groaning, he gets up, throwing on his shirt and pants. It’s only evening.

He groggily makes his way to the door, the antidepressants bringing with them a lethargy he has yet to get used to. Maybe if he used them more, he would, but that means actually remembering to take them.

“Ikeda-san,” Shouyou greets after getting a face full of spring air. It’s his aunt’s married name, and even after an ugly divorce, she still keeps it.

“No need to be so formal, Shouyou.” She gives a tired smile, and suddenly all the anger building up inside Shouyou’s body flees.

He observes a couple things. The first: she’s taller than him, though not by very much. In fact, if he wasn’t so attuned to things like this, he wouldn’t have noticed at all. The second: she looks devastated. Her eyes are watery and pained, and her expressions is sick with worry.

“You…you didn't know she was sick.” Shouyou infers, and it sounds like he’s asking a question. He sounds like a kid again. His voice goes high, imploring, and he doesn’t understand. This is his mother’s sister. And yet, when she looks at him dead in the eyes, she shakes her head.

“No,” she croaks. “I was made aware only last night.”

And if any, even the tiniest amount, of rage was leftover, it quickly dissipates completely.

Aunt Ikeda pulls him into a tight hug, squeezing all the air from his lungs, but he finds that he doesn’t mind. Instead, he allows it, even hugging bag because he’s so _lonely._ His body has been cracked open, stolen of its innards, and then glued back shut.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he breathes into her shoulder, clutching at her blouse.

“That’s alright. You kids aren’t alone anymore.” She rubs soft circles into his back before caressing his hair, untangling the knots that have woven in from his short naps. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Shouyou wants to tell her not to apologize. That it’s not her fault, and that she didn’t know, and that she’s here now so it’s okay. But then he thinks of the apologies he left out in the open that ended up meaningless, and he thinks of the placating words that left him no less numb than before, and he keeps his mouth shut. It’s surely not what she wants to hear at the moment.

“Who’s this, Shouyou?” A small voice peeps from behind, and Shouyou disengages himself from his aunt’s arms, turning to face Natsu.

He swings her before picking her up, but she doesn’t laugh. Instead, her sombre eyes (too sombre for someone her age) are fixed on the person who she assumes to be a stranger.

“This is Aunt Ikeda. She’ll be staying with us for a while to take care of us.”

“Just Karin is fine,” Aunt Ikeda smiles softly, and Natsu seems immediately forgiving.

“Okay!” She beams, wiggling out of Shouyou’s arms. “Thank you, Aunt Karin! Stay until mama gets back, okay? I bet she would want to see you.”

Aunt Ikeda nods as if it doesn’t hurt her, but Shouyou knows it does because it hurts him too.

“Alright,” she swallows, tearing up. “I will.”

Natsu moves forward, hugging Aunt Ikeda around her legs, and Shouyou’s heart feels heavy. The only time their mother will see their aunt is in the hospital, and he knows it’s cruel to not tell Natsu that, but he can’t bring himself to. Not if it’ll make her sad.

Already, she’s going to grow up without a mother and a father. And then there’s selfish Shouyou, who planned to take her brother away to. There’s no way he can do that now. He looks at the scene unfolding before him. His aunt’s wavering smile, and his sister’s glee, clinging to the woman’s legs. And then Natsu turns back and smiles at Shouyou, lighting up the entire room. The first smile she’s given him since their mom got admitted to the hospital.

After everything has settled with Natsu on the couch eating her dinner next to Aunt Ikeda, Shouyou rips the resignation form to shreds. He’s come so far. He’s not going to quit now.

“Ikeda-san.” He joins them on the couch.

“Shouyou,” she says, looking at him to tell him to continue, eyes crinkling at the edge in a waning smile.

He shifts, uncomfortable for a split second, and swallows.

“Can I go to a friend’s house right now? I was supposed to be at a sleepover today, but I…” After he decided not to go, he also told Nurse Ishii not to come over, which didn’t go over well, but she eventually gave in. But now Aunt Ikeda is over, and Natsu seems happy, and Shouyou doesn’t really have a reason to not go to the sleepover.

“Have fun, Shouyou,” is Aunt Ikeda’s answer.

It doesn’t make everything better, but it does make Shouyou feel a little less stifled. He ruffles Natsu’s hair and heads out the door, taking his bike with him as well as some other essentials. Before he leaves, he runs back to pocket his pills, heading out the door before he changes his mind and puts it back.

Aunt Ikeda looks like she wants to say something. Maybe to tell him to be safe. But in the end, she just waves awkwardly before shutting the door. Shouyou understands. He feels awkward around her too, and he’s not sure how to talk to her or where they stand. But she seems kind. Maybe a little tired, and Shouyou wants to make things easy on her. Surely it’s hard to suddenly take care of two children when initially you had none.

 

 

He realizes he didn’t call Suga to warn him a little too late. As in, he’s already at the door, and he already knocked. And someone’s already opening it.

“Hinata!” Suga’s face lights up in surprise, and Shouyou scratches the back of his head, hoping that his eyes aren’t still red.

Judging from the concern on Suga’s face, they still are.

“You’re shivering,” he says, ushering Shouyou in before closing the door behind them. The house is illuminated, too much noise coming from the next room, and it’s infinitely warmer than the gray back home. He feels bad for leaving Natsu there with just their aunt, but not bad enough to go back. She was smiling the last time Shouyou saw her. He hopes she’s still smiling. He hopes she’ll never lose her smile.

“You’re late!” Tanaka calls from the other room. “Hurry up Hinata and get over here!”

Even though Shouyou said he wasn’t going to come, they were still waiting for him. Still saving a spot for him. Still thinking of him. He walks into the other room and is immediately bombarded by bodies toppling on top of him.

“Shouyou!” Nishinoya cheers. Even Tsukishima gives in and gives him a pat on the back.

“Sorry I’m late,” Shouyou grins weakly once everyone’s gotten off, feeling off balance.

He rubs his shoulders through his thin t-shirt even though it’s not cold, and reels back when something is suddenly shoved into his face.

“Your strawberry lollipop,” Kageyama says. “The ones you told Suga-san to get.”

“Oh,” Shouyou takes it. “Thanks.” He didn’t actually think Suga would get them, but he takes off the wrapper and pops it in his mouth anyway. Just like the one he got at Mini Mart, it’s sweet and artificial, but not the same. It’s from a different brand, not the one Shouyou usually gets, and it tastes so much better. Probably because there’s more sugar in it.

He give it another lick when something pops on his tongue. He shrieks and everyone laughs. “What’s that?” He asks, taking the pink lollipop out and examining it closer. There are weird sprinkle things in it.

“Popping candy,” Daichi explains, as Shouyou sucks on it, marveling at the way the candy crackles and explodes all over his tongue.

“It’s good,” Shouyou notes.

Tsukishima wrinkles his nose. “I don’t understand how you can like shit like that. It’s literally just colouring, sugar, and artificial flavouring.”

Shouyou beams, taking the candy out and poking Tsukishima’s cheek with it. “See, Tsukishima. That’s what makes it good.”

At Tsukishima’s furious glare as he wipes his cheek, Kageyama barely conceals a snicker as Tanaka and Nishinoya straight up laugh. Eventually, Tsukishima smiles too, which is truly a rarity unless he’s sarcastic smiling, and everybody stops to high five each other. Which, consequently, makes Tsukishima glare again. But everyone knows he doesn’t mean it.

They all settle onto the floor, couches abandoned, and drinks are poured out into cups for everyone. Apparently, they’re playing a drinking game. Except with coca cola. And except it’s not really a game because everyone just keeps drinking their coke whenever they feel like it.

“So,” Kageyama nudges his side. “Why were you late anyway? Suga-san said you might not even come.”

“Did something happen?” Asahi asks, eyes widening. “Are you okay?!”

Shouyou quickly waves his hand in front of him accompanied by too many weird noises. “Don’t freak out. Stop freaking out. I’m fine.”

He’s kind of lying.

“You’re lying.”

“Thanks, Kageyama,” Hinata says dryly.

“You said you would tell us, you know,” Tsukishima mutters, only to get a kick from Yamaguchi.

“Don’t feel pressured,” the freckled boy smiles. “Just know that, like we said before, we’ll listen.” He sounds sincere, and he probably is sincere, and everyone else seems sincere too—all warm and concerned.

Shouyou wipes his palms onto his pants and looks everywhere but into their eyes. “My mom’s in the hospital,” he finally says. Not because he feels like he has to tell them, but because he wants to. He’s wanted to tell someone for ages, but it’s the kind of thing that can’t just be blurted out. It’s the kind of things that’s been festering and festering, and he feels like if he doesn’t say anything now, he might explode. And the aftereffects of that would be far more mortifying than simply getting it out right now.

No one says anything, but they do move in closer to him, and Kageyama puts an awkward arm over his shoulder. He takes this as a sign to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Shouyou shoulders on. “She got sick a several months ago. She was short on breath, her chest always ached, and she kept coughing. At first we thought it was nothing, but then she wasn’t getting better, so we took her to the clinic. They prescribed her some common cold medication, so it was kind of meh. But she still got worse, and one day when she was cooking, she just passed out. I called an ambulance. They said it was pneumonia paired with anemia, and that she would be okay. But she wasn’t.

“She got worse and worse, and it wasn’t just pneumonia anymore. We went to the hospital and they did a scan. Apparently it was congestive heart failure on the left side. Basically, her heart was being a bad heart and wasn’t pumping blood properly. And then she got an infection, and stayed at the hospital for a couple months. They said she wouldn’t live much longer. Nothing they could do. Said they were sorry. We took her home, got all the machines and stuff. I gave her her medication on the days the nurse didn’t come to our house, and I looked after Natsu. I…used to be depressed as a kid. Something wrong with my brain or whatever, but then when mom got sick, it got worse.

“So I got prescribed pills again, and it was kind of really stressful to juggle everything, and so I kind of…cracked. And then mom seized and her heart failed and now she’s staying at the hospital. They moved her last night, and apparently she’s still in unstable condition.”

Shouyou only looks up once he’s done to the silent faces of his teammates. Some are looking down, some look like they want to reach out and comfort him, and some just stare.

“How…how can you say that so calmly?” Kinoshita asks, reaching out a trembling hand to touch Shouyou’s shoulder.

He doesn’t really have a good answer. He told the story on autopilot, robotically and methodically, not pausing even to breathe. And now that it’s over, he feels little better. “How else am I supposed to tell it?” He asks, picking lint off his shirt. “It’s…I’m not a good person.” He shakes his head. He shouldn’t be telling them this, but now that he’s started, he can’t stop. “I don’t…really know what to feel anymore.” He hiccups, burning his nose from the carbonated drink he had earlier, and takes a shuddering breath. “Sometimes,” he whispers, “I want her to be dead.” At this he looks up, forcing himself to meet everyone’s eyes because he deserves to be judged. He deserves to be hated. “I always wonder if it would be easier if she was already dead. Maybe then I won’t have to keep being on edge for the inevitable.”

He’s expecting to be loathed, but everyone just looks sad instead.

“Hinata,” Suga calls softly, breaking the fragile silence. “Come here.” Shouyou crawls over into his open arms and collapses, laying his head on Suga’s lap. “Rest a little, okay?”

Before he sleeps, Shouyou shows them all the deep scar in his thigh from where he tried to gauge out his life. “I was thirteen,” he tells them as Suga runs trembling fingers through his hair.

He thinks Asahi actually cries.

“Don’t die on us, you idiot,” Tsukishima says, whacking him gently on the head. “You’re important.” The second part is significantly quieter, and Asahi, sniffling, nods vehemently.

“We love you, Shouyou,” Noya adds, no joking tone in his eyes. Kageyama asks to touch his scar, running a perfectly filed nail around it, pursing his lips.

“Don’t hurt yourself. Even you aren’t that stupid,” he says.

It’s crude, but Kageyama means well, so Shouyou feels his heart swell. “Thank you,” he croaks, talking to everyone, and he thinks about how comfortable Suga’s lap is, and how he hopes he’s not hurting he older male.

“If I may ask though,” Daichi fidgets, “Why your thigh?”

Shouyou looks at the ceiling. “It was when I was just getting into Volleyball. I remember watching the Little Giant bump the ball up, and how he spiked, and I just thought that a part of the body that can do something so incredible shouldn’t be the part that I cut.” He shrugs, a difficult feat when he’s not sitting up. “It’s stupid, but that’s why.”

Daichi looks pained, and he takes Shouyou’s hands, interlocking their fingers. “If you ever feel the urge to hurt yourself, talk to us, okay? Or an adult like Ukai-san or Takeda-sensei. We’ll try our best to help.”

“You don’t have to worry, Daichi-san. It’s different now.” He rolls his pants back down, covering the scar. The scar that means he survived. He remembers looking at his mother and wanting her to die, but even more so, wanting to die himself. But he has people to live for. He has himself to live for. He takes this moment, quietly, and ingrains it into his heart.

 

 

When he wakes up, he’s on a futon instead of Suga’s lap, and everything feels a little lighter. The room isn’t very bright yet, and when he checks the time, it’s barely dawn. But there’s no way he can sleep more. He feels gross, eyes crusted over, breath so bad he’s tasting it, and oil matting his skin.

He tiptoes to the washroom with the small bag he brought, careful not to wake others, and splashes cold water onto his face. Opening his bag, he takes out a tooth brush and some toothpaste, brushing his teeth furiously (probably overly so) until he can no longer taste anything but mint, and them he spits, uses his hands as a cup, and rinses his mouth out. He always feels a little better after brushing his teeth and washing his face.

When he gets back to the living room where everyone is sleeping, Tsukishima is the only other person up, groggy and wiping his eyes before slipping on his glasses.

“You’re up,” he says, catching eye of Shouyou.

Shouyou nods, ready to open his mouth to talk but then Tsukki shakes his head while rolling his eyes.

“Quiet,” he whispers, standing up and stretching. “You’re too fucking loud.”

“I wasn’t even talking!” Shouyou exclaims, and Tsukishima pretty much slaps a hand over his mouth.

“I was predicting the future. And I was right. Now shut up unless you want to wake the others.”

Shouyou nods, biting his lips. “I’m hungry,” he says.

“Of course you are.”

He likes this—bantering. He expected to be treated differently, but leave it to Tsukishima to still be as assholey as ever. Except, Shouyou doesn’t miss the split second glances Tsukki throws his way, when his eyes go a little gentler and he looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

Shouyou kind of hopes he never finds out how because he’ll have no idea how to react of the blond suddenly started being sappy.

They go to the kitchen together in a strangely comfortable silence and Shouyou doesn’t know if he should open the fridge. This isn’t his house. He doesn’t know what he’s allowed to touch and what’s to be off limits. But then again, this is Suga’s house and Shouyou’s sure the older won’t mind.

It seems Tsukishima doesn’t have the same reserves as him because he pops open the fridge easily, rummaging around. “I don’t really get hungry in the mornings,” the taller admits. “But I guess I’ll have something anyway.”

“I can cook,” Shouyou offers, and Tsukishima sends him a long, strange look but doesn’t say anything else.

He expects a jab, like, _“Heh, wouldn’t have expected it from someone as air-headed as you.”_ And maybe that’s what Tsukishima would’ve said before, but Shouyou guesses that as much as things don’t have to change, other things do.

And because Tsukishima thinks it’s okay to raid the fridge, Shouyou joins him, taking out tofu, onions, chives, and bell peppers.  

“This is kind of American,” Shouyou says, draining the firm tofu before patting it with paper towel. Then he wraps it in more paper towel before putting a pan on top. “But it’s really yummy and healthy.” And Shouyou knows Tsukishima likes lighter food.

Well, they are volley ball players after all. It’s good to be a little health conscious. But that doesn’t stop Tsukishima from smirking. “Oh, I’m sure you’re really healthy, with all your pre-game katsudons.”

“Those are for good luck,” Shouyou hisses without heat, pouring around a tablespoon of oil into the pan. Tsukishima looks at the tofu curiously. “I’m pressing the water out,” Shouyou tells him. “For tofu scramble. It’s like healthier scrambled eggs, I guess.”

He doesn’t know what spices Suga has, but white he waits for the oil to get a little hotter, he rummages various cupboards.

“I found the spices,” Tsukishima says, and Shouyou comes over and looks at the impressive array. He picks out turmeric, salt, garlic powder, cumin, and black pepper. Tsukishima chops the onions, chives, and bell peppers thinly before dumping them into the pan via Shouyou’s instructions. They season the veggies and wait for them to soften.

Shouyou removes the pan from the tofu, using his hands to crumble it.

“Are your hands even clean?” Tsukishima wrinkles his nose.

“You tell me.” He presses his hands right up to Tsukishima’s face, feeling a smile tug at his lips when Tsukishima scowls, pushing him away.

They toss the tofu in together before throwing in random amounts of the other spices.

“It really does look like scrambled eggs,” Tsukishima admits.

Shouyou nods. “It tastes pretty similar too. Sometimes I actually think it tastes better. Although,” he frowns at the food as he transfers it to a plates. “This is only enough for us.”

Tsukishima doesn’t seem too bothered by that. Instead, he shrugs. “The early bird catches the worm.”

They eat together in silence, but Shouyou doesn’t miss the way Tsukishima seems to be doing everything he can to make Shouyou smiles. Not that he would ever tell the taller boy he notices it, because then Tsukishima might stop his teasing and bad jokes.

“Take your pills,” Tsukishima says as they rinse off the plates before setting it in the sink.

Shouyou does without complaining, popping two in his mouth before swallowing it with a glass of water Tsukishima gets for him. He knows the other’s eyes are watching him, following his every move, and he tries not to be too bothered. Although, Tsukishima being concerned is kind of weird. Not really new, at this point, but still weird.

When everyone else wakes up, Shouyou already has pancakes made. Tsukishima sends him a weird look, like he knows exactly why Shouyou made something healthy in the morning when it was just the two of them instead of something more convenient and junky. Taking care of Natsu has taught Shouyou to be more considerate of other people.

Taking care of Natsu has taught him many things he didn’t think he would have to learn until he was much older, but he wouldn’t take it back. He loves Natsu, and although looking after her was something troubling, it was also something he loved doing.

When everyone else is eating, he calls home and talks to Aunt Ikeda for a bit. He’s glad for the weekend because he has time to unwind and to not think. He doesn’t want to think. He just wants to breathe.

 

 

He hates visiting his mother. It’s been a week, and he’s visited her a total of two times. But Natsu likes to bring flowers, so he can’t object.

His mother, whenever he sees her awake, stares at him with glazed, despondent eyes. He loathes it. He hates how they follow him around the room, and how she opens and closes her mouth but never says anything. He hates how she’s not even conscious most of the time. He hates Natsu’s hurt expressions with their mother doesn’t talk, and he hates how much he hates her.

The worst is that he’s scared. He’s terrified, and he wants her to _talk._ He wants her to talk so her last words to him won’t be, _“Shouyou, don’t die.”_

And _how did she know?_ She was the one dying at the time, yet somehow she read through him. So now he can’t die. He can’t kill himself, nor does he have that itching need to do so anymore, but it still terrifies him. That even after all the shit he did for their family, she still had the gall to try to tell him what not to do.

 _Don’t die._ Like a crowbar hitting him on the head before stabbing him through the chest. A command. He would rather die than go through this state of strange purgatory, forced to watch the world move around him while he remains stagnant, trying to rip his feet out of the ground.

He stares at his mother’s hospital bed and the window letting in too much light, and how Natsu babbles to their mother even though she doesn’t respond with anything but listless nods.

He stands up, patting Natsu on the shoulder. “I’m going out for a walk, okay? I’ll be back.”

Aunt Ikeda stands in the corner, as if she doesn’t know if she belongs. _It’s_ your _sister,_ Shouyou wants to spit, and he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so angry. He brushes past her when she tries to put a comforting hand on him and exits the hospital before the smell of the dying make him vomit. Except, it’s not really the smell of the dying. It’s just the smell he associates with the dying. The smell of Iodoform, wafting up his nose.

The backdoor of the building leads to a small garden, and a nurse passing by smiles and nods at him, and he tries his best to return it. But then his lips start to tremble and he rushes outside before anyone can see.

It’s a brilliant day, the sun casting glows over plants and shrubs, only a handful of clouds adrift. But Shouyou doesn’t have it in him to appreciate it. Instead, he walks around the garden and starts to cry, the buzzing silence broken only by his sobs and the birds. It’s strange that he’s the only one there, but he supposes there’s not much to look at, and no one comes to the hospital to see the garden. Everyone’s probably with their loved ones. But Shouyou’s too selfish and too afraid to face her. Because even though he said before that he wants her to die, there’s a sinking in his gut, curling a fist around his innards before tugging.

_Don’t go don’t go. Please don’t go._

 

 

She dies three days later. Shouyou has never seen Natsu cry so much.

 

 

He walks into the gym, shuffling his feet, and everyone around him is silent.

“Hinata-kun,” Takeda-sensei breaks the silence, reaching a hand out towards him.

“It’s okay,” Shouyou says. He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to. “I’m okay.” But then his voice breaks and he’s crying, tasting salt on his lips as his entire body starts to tremble. And then Kageyama is rushing forward, eyes narrowed, but somehow not scary. Because Shouyou knows him too well now to be scared of only narrowed eyes.

Then he’s suddenly wrapped in strong arms. Awkward, strong arms, with equally awkward pats on his back. And then everyone else wraps around him too. Shouyou can easily ask for space. He knows the moment he gives the word, everyone will back off. But he doesn’t. He’s just…so cold, and he wants to feel warm.

He wants to feel loved.

He wails, loud and pained, and he lets the months, years, of hurt pour out, shaking so violently he doesn’t know how Kageyama is holding on. He clenches Kageyama’s shirt in his hands, standing on his tiptoes and pressing his face into the setter’s shoulder, screaming as loud as he can. Screaming so loud he’s afraid all the windows will shatter.

Then suddenly, Kageyama’s screaming with him, and then Tanaka and Nishinoya, and soon everyone is screaming—even Tsukki—their voices melding together in a piercing, incredible roar.

 

 

“Shou-chan.” Natsu tugs at his pants, looking at him with giant, watery eyes. “You can cry, okay? You can cry a lot. I know I’m being a baby and crying a lot, so it’s not fair if you don’t cry too. We can be sad together, okay? And maybe one day, we won’t be sad anymore.”

Shouyou stares, feeling his throat close up, and then he’s picking her up and crying again, for the fifty-millionth time, feeling himself shatter and shatter and slowly put back together. One piece, then another.

He presses Natsu’s forehead to his before setting her on the couch, tickling her until they’re both giggling wetly. “We’ll be okay,” Shouyou says. “Now, what do you want for dinner?”

**Author's Note:**

> :')


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